Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
DREW
Two days I waited. Two days. Rubin had been hanging around The Hut like a bad smell every day of the week, but the minute I needed to actually talk to him, the little ghost decided to fade away on me.
Tate didn’t know where he was and he didn’t seem care.
The only things Tate focused on these days were his bike and his boner. We’d created a fucking monster.
When Rubin eventually rode into the yard on his bike one afternoon, I made sure he didn’t get away.
“Rubin,” I called from the back of a Ford F-150 we’d pulled in fresh that morning. I’d been clearing it out, removing some raggedy old tarp that had been tied to one corner and left for months, if not years.
Rubin looked up, his face brightening and offering me a smile.
I hopped down from the Ford and made my way to Rubin, looking like a man with a purpose.
No point pretending to be anything other than I was anymore.
It was hard to miss the subtle scowl of confusion that creased Rubin’s brow as he watched me marching forward, but he straightened himself out and waited patiently.
“Hey, Drew.”
“Kid.” I threw my arm around his shoulder. “Where the hell ya been?” Not stopping, I kept on walking, taking him with me and guiding the two of us across the yard, over to The Hut.
“Erm…” He scowled again, glancing at the hand on his shoulder before he looked back up at me. “School stuff. Parent stuff. Wait, am I in trouble?”
“Trouble? Why would you be in trouble?”
“I have no idea.”
“Can’t be in trouble if you ain’t done nothing wrong, Rubes.”
“Rubes?” He raised a brow, not looking away from my face as we hit the steps that lead up to the wrap around porch.
“It’s either that or Pubes. You decide. Everyone in this place needs a nickname at some point.
” I pushed open the door, letting it swing behind us and shut with a thud.
The bar wasn’t that busy. Most were either out riding, in the yard, working, training, or in bed sleeping the afternoon away like lazy motherfuckers.
The only people that occupied the space were a few Hound Whores, Deeks, Owen, and Moose.
Everyone looked up when we arrived. The Hound Whores still gave me the subtle sexy eyes every now and then, despite Ayda practically running the joint these days, but the thought of fresh blood around the place, even if he was an underage high school kid, always piqued the thirsty girls’ interests.
Their shoulders straightened, their boobs pushed out, and the way they began to slap their gum around inside their mouths was almost comical.
Poor kid would be getting a chubby every time he walked in the place at this rate.
“Rubin!” Deeks greeted from his stool at the bar.
“Hey, Deeks.” He waved again. Polite kid. Not bad for someone so capable of delivering a vital gunshot that saved a life. I knew it was why Deeks had taken to the kid more than any of us.
“Where you been?” Deeks asked, patting the bar top in a silent request for us to join him for a drink.
Rubin slid into place on the stool beside Deeks, while I made my way behind the bar to play bartender. Something I rarely did for anyone around here.
“Why is everyone asking that?” Rubin asked, glancing between Deeks and me with shifty eyes.
Deeks laughed roughly, lifting his tumbler to his lips and speaking against the rim of the glass. “Nice to be so popular around here, huh?”
The Whores giggled behind him, and Rubin glanced around, his face lighting up exactly like a teenage boy in a whorehouse should.
“It’s not all bad,” Rubin answered quietly, offering the girls an ill-rehearsed wink before he spun back around and rested his arms on the bar. “Is Tate around?”
I shrugged, looking bored, even though I was smiling.
“I think Ayda and him have gone someplace together. I saw Tate climbing into one of the repo cars with her earlier,” Deeks told him.
News to me, I thought, but I left those thoughts in my mind, not letting them show on my face. Ayda would be safe. She always was. Except for when she wasn’t, but I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to trust her. The Bonnie to my Clyde.
“Shit,” Rubin cursed, not needing to filter his cuss words here. “We had that English paper to work on together.”
Deeks laughed again. “Good luck with that. Tate hasn’t done any serious studying outside of studying the mechanics of a bike or the female workings of a body since…
” He paused, glanced up at the ceiling and frowned.
“Lord knows when.” His eyes fell back to me.
“We should do something about that, Tucker.”
“Feel free to offer up study sessions any time you like, old boy.” I gave him a half smile.
“Less of the old. I’m vintage. Darn youngsters.”
It was my turn to softly laugh before I spun around, opened the fridge, grabbed two beers and turned back to offer one to Rubin.
His eyes widened as he stared at the bottle that had drips of condensation falling down it.
“You allowed this shit?” I asked, at least pretending to be responsible for just a second. He was drinking it whether he was allowed or not.
“Probably not.”
“Daddy got you on a leash?”
“He wishes.” Rubin rose from his stool and reached out for the bottle in my hand.
I glanced at Deeks and saw the unspoken questions in his eyes.
A sly wink from me told him to play along.
Thank God for the Hounds and their silent language.
It came in useful on occasions like this.
Uncapping the bottle, I passed it over to Rubin and then fell back to lean against the back of the bar, crossing my legs at the ankles and sinking a hand into the depths of my pocket while my other lifted my beer to my mouth.
Rubin looked at his beer, blinking for a brief second before he whispered under his breath. “Fuck it.”
“Atta boy,” I chuckled, watching as he sat back in place and chugged a third of it in one.
It wasn’t the first time he’d drunk in this place.
He and Tate were doing it all the time on a weekend.
They’d sit on the sofas, surrounded by the women when Libby wasn’t around, and they’d slide each other shots of whiskey and bottles of beer all night long.
But this was early afternoon and a midweek day. Rubin knew what happened when you had one beer in this place. It always led to fourteen more.
“God, that tastes good,” he gasped as he rested his bottle on the bar top.
“Your old man not like you drinking?” Deeks asked, his body turned to face Rubin, leaning against the counter. He looked like an all-year-round Santa Claus, ready to extract truths and secrets from anyone willing to talk to his innocent-looking face.
“Dunno.” Rubin shrugged.
I scowled. “Surely he knows you’re dabbling in the stuff at your age.”
Rubin picked at the bottom corner of the label on his bottle. “Ya kidding? That would mean him paying attention to something other than his own ego.”
I sucked air in through my teeth, creating a low whistle. “I sense tension.” I raised a brow.
“Nah.” Rubin shook his head. “Tension means there’s an issue. Like… one of us is mad at the other or some shit. It ain’t like that between us.”
“What’s it like?” Deeks asked softly.
Rubin shrugged a shoulder again, looking up at Deeks. “He’s just someone I know.”
I knew that feeling. I thought of Eric again, my face falling as I filled my lungs with all the oxygen they could hold before I released it through my nose and took another sip of my beer.
“That’s kinda sad,” Deeks offered with genuine sympathy.
“You guys never talk?” I asked Rubin.
“Only when I fuck up.”
“Fuck up how?”
“You know. Bad grades, detentions, hanging around with Tate who suddenly isn’t good enough anymore according to Dad.”
“Can’t imagine why,” I whispered sarcastically.
“He doesn’t know shit. I’d tell him, too, but it ain’t like he’s ever around or that he’d even listen.”
I cleared my throat quietly, rolling my shoulder. “Where is he if he ain’t with his family?”
Rubin glanced up at me, his frown weak as his eyes searched mine. “Why you interested in him all of a sudden?”
I turned the corners of my mouth down, trying to look as uninterested as I possibly could. “Just making conversation.”
“Which is so not like you.” Rubin smirked, and something about the way it looked on him made me smile to myself. It was a carbon copy of mine, the little fucker. I already had Tate copying my every move; now it looked like this kid was, too.
“Fine.” I huffed. “Change conversation—”
“Hell to that,” Deeks interrupted, shuffling closer. “Forget Tucker. I want to know. What kind of bastard father doesn’t pay attention to a kid like you? A good kid. A solid kid. A lot of families out there would be proud as shit of you, boy.”
And that was why I loved Deeks. It was why I missed Harry, too. The world needed more people like that: people who could get through to others because they genuinely gave a shit.
Rubin hung his head for a second before he took another sip of his beer and dropped it back down into place. “Sorry, Deeks. I guess I get a little paranoid around here sometimes.”
“Why you paranoid around here? This is a safe place for you. You earned it.”
“No, I know I did. But, you know, I guess I just figured you guys would think I was some kind of rat, given who my father is.”
I closed my eyes slowly and waited. Fuck.
I hadn’t told Deeks or any of the boys yet. I’d been waiting for… what? I didn’t even know.
“Who’s your father, son? The Grim Reaper?” Deeks laughed roughly.
“Pretty much,” Rubin answered with a serious face. “You don’t know who my father is?” He looked over to me at the same time I peeked one eye open, scrunching up one side of my face. “You didn’t tell them?”
I sighed, tilted my head to one side and shook it. “Didn’t see the point. Thought I’d save you the paranoia but doesn’t look like that worked out.”
“Who is it?” Deeks interjected.
“Mayor Walsh,” Rubin answered.